I’m Not Addicted My Body On The Other Hand…
by Blackhander
Summary: House derails an addicts meeting but he isn’t the one who has a problem!The death of All In for TWOP.


**I'm Not Addicted. My Body On The Other Hand… **

**The Edward Volger Centre For People Who Ain't Got Health (PAID IN FULL BY A GENEROUS CASH DONATION FROM EDWARD VOLGER)**

The large man struggled from his seat. After a few attempts he managed to get to his feet.

Glancing around, he looked into the zoned out eyes of the others in the hall.

He waved nervously.

No one moved.

'HI!' he squeaked in a strangled voice.

Coughing he started again.

' I mean, hi. I'm Paul. And I have a drinking problem.'

'HI PAUL!' chorused the hall, without enthusiasm.

'Bitchtits!'

Paul's mouth flapped like a drunken guppy.

He looked nervously at the group's leader who was doing her best to glare the rudeness out of the interrupter.

Which **might **have worked had the man been looking anywhere near her.

Instead he was deep in a whispered argument with the man next to him.

'Will you be quiet? This is embarrassing enough without you making this worse,' Wilson snarled through gritted teeth.

House played with the change in his pocket, his eyes obscured by sunglasses. This would allow him a quick nap through the worse of the whinging. Also it made him look cool…er!

After working out he had $2.43 in loose change via touch alone, he turned to Wilson.

'You've ever seen Fight Club?' he said making no attempt to quieten his voice.

Now the whole group gawked and muttered amongst themselves.

Sit down and shut up and then go indulge yourself to prepare yourself for when we meet again next week.

It was the unspoken rule.

You don't have to like it but at least look like you're playing the game.

Wilson tried a weak smile and mouthed 'sorry' but gasped before he could do anymore.

There was a repetitive poking pain in his ribs.

Batting the cane away, he glared at a smirking House.

'Don't you know it's rude to ignore someone who asked you a question?'

Wilson rolled his eyes and turned back to the centre of the circle.

'Those bloody eyes of his. Boring into the back of my head. I can tell even when he's hiding them.' 

He turned his head slightly and whispered 'No, I haven't seen the film. Now be quiet!'

Wilson turned and nodded at Paul, who had been standing unsure if it was still his turn.

Paul glanced at the sunglasses man. He appeared to be counting the roof tiles or was dead.

Anyway, he was distracted.

Encouraged by this, Paul began to tell the perfect strangers that was the first time he had gone to one of these but the court had made him. How drink had ruined his kidneys and how his wife had run off with the tennis coach and how he knew he shouldn't but he had taken a lawnmower and-

'Ed Norton and Brad Pitt are the same person, Kevin Spacey is Kasier Sozee and Snape kills Dumbledore.'

The mummers were louder now. The word 'gimp' was even heard a few times, though no one would have admitted to saying it.

A stupidly muscular man (_Steroid abuse_ thought Wilson) got to his feet.

'Hey! I was going to watch Fight Club tonight,' the giant grunted.

House opened his arms wide and beamed.

'And now you don't have to!'

He winked at Wilson, who remained unaware due to the dark glass.

'I've got that sainthood in the BAG!'

Now he turned to Paul.

'Well go on.'

Paul shook his head and promptly sat down.

'I suggest we take a minute to think over what Paul said and then we can advise him on his next steps,' the group's leader said, slightly dazed by the activity.

The room filled with conversations of what was on TV and the latest crazy doings of the celebrities.

'Hey, Wilson,' House hissed conspiratorially.

He gestured his friend closer.

Cupping a hand he stage-whispered. 'I don't really have a problem. Can I go eat now?'

This caused a small chuckle from Wilson and House nodded wryly.

'Why AM I asking you?'

He got to his feet and limped over to the table.

Removing his shades, House poured himself a big ol' mug of punch and begin to grab the cakes and cookies.

He left Wilson a single chocolate chip cookie, which was his way of showing friendship.

It wasn't a very good way but it was better then nothing.

Wilson picked up on this and put the cookie in a clean hankie to have later. He had already eaten, which wasn't the best thing to do before coming to an Addicts Meeting. All that talk of shooting up in crackhouses wasn't what he really wanted to hear on a full belly after a hard day of telling people they had cancer.

He sighed his world-weary sigh and began the lecture.

'I asked you if you wanted to come to my addicts workshop. You said you had to go make daisychains with Cameron. I mention I'm making macaroons and you turn up.'

He sipped his punch.

'You could at least listen to the others.'

House hadn't listened but now waved his mug at the crowd that were staring at the two of them, wondering if they would dare to eat the refreshments after about 10 minutes of the meeting.

'Who the hell lumped the addicts togther? As amusing as it is to watch the anorexics and bulimics fight it out over who looks the most like a stick, I don't want to have to listen to them whine.'

Wilson snorted some punch out of his nose.

Coughing, he managed to choke out 'You don't!'

Once he had stopped spluttering and had taken another sip of his drink, he continued.

'You interrupt and get body builders threatening to break your other leg!'

House tapped his cane against his leg.

'This one isn't broken. It's just filled with satanic energy!'

With this he pulled his best "SUPER SPOOKY BOOOOO!!!!" face just to make Wilson shoot punch from his nose again.

He did.

This finally caused a reaction from the meeting.

A woman of about eighty, with purple rinsed hair got to her feet.

After catching her breath, she turned around and shook her handbag at the whippersnapper of a cripple.

'Young man, it does not do to tempt God so. You should be ashamed,' she croaked.

House opened his mouth to make yet another old woman cry when he got a look, as if all the pieces had fallen into place.

'Your son is putting arsenic in your face cream. That's why you've got that rash.'

The woman's eyes widened, made even more ridiculous by her huge glasses.

Grabbing her coat and barking a brisk apology to Sandra, the group leader (who was now drinking hard from a hipflask) she shuffled from the hall.

'I didn't see a rash. She seemed fine!' Wilson said, caterpillars rising in mock surprise.

House finished his drink and slipped the shades back on.

Grabbing his cane, he began to head back to his seat.

'Oh, she was. People just seem to believe me, that's all!'

_Just when I thought he couldn't surprise me anymore._

'You're a diagnostician!'

House smacked his forehead.

'I am? I wondered why I had to look at sick people!'

'But I thought-'

House turned back to face his friend.

Flinging his arms wide and head back, House belted out his song at full volume.

'Everyyyyybodyyyyyy lieeeeeeeeeeees, sometimes.'

Adjusting his glasses, he grinned a sardonic grin at the stunned doctor.

'I just thought it would sink in if I told it through the medium of song.'

He patted Wilson's shoulder reassuringly and sat down.

'Dude, that was, like, totally, woah, you know, like, you know? Woah!' the smackhead next to House moaned before giggling at the antics of the clowns that danced behind his eyeballs.

Sandra leered with barely hidden hatred.

'You clearly have a lot to say. How about you go now, Mr?'

'Doctor. And no, I'm here to give big ups to my main man,' House said pointing at Wilson.

He paused.

'In the ghetto, yo bitch, whore'

A small sigh left his lips.

'Where's Foreman when I need him? It's no fun without him!'

Wilson got to his feet.

'Promise not to interrupt.'

'As long as you don't say anything that warrants derision.'

Wilson raised a hand in greeting.

'Hi. I'm Rufus Hanks and I have a gambling problem.'

'Rufus' came the weak mummer of the crowd. They had stopped caring and sunk into a mixture of hatred and confusion.

This got a gasp from House.

'Lying to the addicts. For shame,' he clucked in mock shame.

Wilson glanced over his shoulder.

'I have my standing in the neighbourhood to think of! If people know I'm here, the old ladies won't bake their pies and I can kiss goodbye to the free haircuts.'

House raised his hands in surrender.

'Fine. Wouldn't want to stop the pies getting to me.'

Wilson continued. He knew no one was listening but it was the spirit of the law that mattered.

'I was told to come to these by my boss. Over the last few months, I have developed an addiction to cards and whisky. Poker and a good Irish with water to be exact.'

'Can you tell us what you think might have started your addiction?' Sandra mumbled as she checked her nails.

What a stupid question! As is the group so… 

'It was a few months ago. I was playing for a charity gala and had a few good hands. Unfortunately, I was playing against a man who believes that everyone lies; as he so kindly sung for us. But luckily, there was a sick kid and he had to go.'

NOW the room was listening. House raised his eyebrows and stared over his glasses.

'No! I didn't mean that! I, I HELP CANCER PATIENTS! I'M A GOOD GUY! I give money to charity!' Wilson fumbled.

'If you were perfect, you wouldn't be here,' said a man with a giant beard, which smelt of wet dog.

'Quite. As I was saying, while my colleague went to complete his vital job, I played on to raise money for the sick and needy.'

'I helped him through the use of mobile technology.' House interjected.

'BUT without his help I won! As I said it was for charity. But my opponent-'

A little pug-faced woman stirred into life at this.

'Singular? But you were playing poker? You lost the fourth. What happened to the other player?'

'I don't see how this is important. But she had to go help with the patient.'

The woman blinked.

'Wait…you're a doctor?'

JUMPING JAMAICAN JELLYBEANS! I'M TALKING TO RETARDS!

Now, now James. Be nice to the idiot.

Smile nicely and try to round up the story.

'I'm a oncologist,' Wilson said with his "Sorry, you're going to lose all your hair but at least you still have your eyes!" smile.

'Can you look at my knee?' the woman asked, already rolling up her skirt.

'It's lupus!' came the everpresent voice.

SquashedFace responded in the only way she could.

'Ya what?'

'Google it!' House barked.

As the pug got to her feet, Sandra stood up and glared. Pugly sat down ashamed.

'Would you mind not sending my flock home? They have important healing to go through and you're making things worse. In fact, if you don't have a problem, go home!'

Wilson was never sure why he did it. But did it, he did.

'He does have a problem! He's got a drug addiction!'

House looked up at his friend.

'Hey, Vicodin isn't habit forming. I should know. I've been using it for years.'

Sandra got a far away look.

'Drugs…that would explain a lot!'

'Can I finish?' Wilson asked.

'Just a moment, Rufus.'

Sandra stared deep

'Would you mind if I used you in a case study? I find you fascinating. You free for dinner on Tuesday?'

There was a pause.

Then House emitted a loud snore.

Sandra sniffed hard at this snub.

'You know what? SCREW YOU!'

Wilson cleared his throat harshly. _If I have to do this stupid thing, they have to at least pretend to listen!_

'AS I WAS SAYING! My opponent mentioned the fact that a few of his friends were having a tournament for money. So I asked what the pot was?'

'One Million Dollars!'

'HOUSE! WILL YOU SHUT UP!'

House's face crumpled and his bottom lip popped out in a pout.

'Stop shouting Mummy! Can't you see what you're doing to this family?'

He needs the attention. Just don't make lunch for a few days. Hey, make some pickles. That will show him. 

'The pot was one hundred and fifty dollars. So I practised my poker in my lunch breaks and at home. That Tuesday, I played and won double. I could have stopped there but I kept raising the stakes.'

'Skip to the end.'

' I won every hand. I had cars. I had money. I had Dr Araf's cleaning lady and Dr Simons' daughter.'

'I didn't know Simons' had a daughter,' mused House, expert on hospital gossip.

Wilson shrugged.

'He doesn't anymore.'

'I kept playing. Online or face to face, I didn't care. I was drinking and playing hard. I would turn up to work late and hungover. I'd come home and just fall asleep on the couch. When my wife complained, I would buy her a brooch or a ring. I even claimed my aunt had died just so I could compete in the world tournament in Vegas.'

The Peroxide haired anorexic clicked her bonyfingers.

'I knew I knew you,' she drawled. 'You're Snake Eyed Jimmy! You made my ex-boyfriend cry!'

Wilson turned.

House's jaw had dropped.

Wilson pointed threateningly.

'Don't!'

House rocked with silent mirth.

'I..Oh God…Snake Eyed…Jimmy! I have to tell…BUT YOU ARE WILSON! WHO CAN I TELL?'

'Anything that is said here doesn't leave the hall, Doctor. House, was it?' Sandra added. Honestly the whole meeting had gone past in a fog for her. Didn't help she was going cold turkey from cough medicine.

House removed his glasses and rubbed at his streaming eyes.

'Like I'm going to keep THAT quiet! He's called Snake Eyed, for God's sake. There are some many jokes to be done.'

DogBeard motioned Wilson over.

'You know a real friend wouldn't laugh,' he said looking hard at House who was burbling happily away about 'one eyed snakes'.

Wilson shrugged.

'It's not really a friendship. It's more a sexless hate/love relationship.'

'Want us to beat him up?' the skinny blonde asked.

'What's in it for you?'

'We're addicts. You're a cancer doctor,' the junkie next House chipped in.

Wilson had to think and this was a fact House would always remember.

'No,' he finally said.

'He's annoying enough with one wound. You don't have to deal with him daily'

DogBeard crackled his knuckles.

'Hell. We're doing it anyway.'

'They wouldn't attack a cripple,' House said, fear tinting his voice.

'You really don't have to do this!' Wilson said nervously.

'Oh no. It would be a pleasure!'

House threw his chair back and pulled himself to his feet.

As quick as he could, he headed for the door.

'LIMP HOUSE! LIMP FOR YOUR LIFE!'

The group pounced and dragged House down.

Wilson sighed and turned his back on the bundle. As he walked towards the table, he pulled out his mobile and rang the hospital.

'Cuddy? Yeah. House is being mobbed again.'

'TASTE CANE, FOUL CREATURES!'

'I swear one day someone's going to shoot him. Yeah. Me-ha.'

'GET FIRE! WE SHALL BURN THE EVIL OUT!'

'I'm there at the moment. Mmm? Oh, I told him about the food.'

'SHIT! HE'S GOT A CHAINSAW!'

'Yeah. A-ha. Macaroons. Yep. Sure, I'll bring some up.'

'EVERYBODY **DIES**! HA!'

'Right. Yeah. See you then. Bye.'

Wilson picked up a slice of fruit cake and turned to watch the massacre.

'Are these things low calorie?' came a male voice from beside him.

'They're fat free macaroons.' Wilson said without looking.

'Good. I'm supposed to be on a diet.'

They stood in silence for a while.

'NOT LIKE THAT! SWING AT THE HEAD! THE, THE HEAD! THAT WAS NOT THE. Oh why do I bother?' Wilson said, throwing his arms up in annoyance.

'You're Wilson?'

'Yeah,' said he, now looking at the man.

'I'm Moriarty. Nice to meet you'

They shook hands.

Moriarty watched.

'This happen a lot?'

'Waaaaay too often.' Wilson said.

'Okay group. Next week, I setting up a "House Survival Group" on Tuesday evenings.' Sandra yelled over the din.

They had to get a bigger hall and more chairs.

Turns out House had pissed off a LOT of people.

But only one person would ever do something about it.

**EXTRA!**

Cameron sniffed quietly in a field full of daisies.

Sure, she could have started before he got there but what was the fun in that?

'He said he would be here. It was this or an addict's meeting! I'll just wait here a little longer.'

It was then a frog in a scarlet doublet and cavalier hat hopped onto her knee.

The frog removed his hat and bowed.

'Why bless me stars! It be Princess Allison! Why you crying those sweet eyes out?'

Cameron tried not to cry before her subject but the tears caused by a broken heart are unstoppable.

'Oh, Lord Frogsworth! King House hasn't come to pick daisychains and I'm cold and hungry!'

The frog waved his hat excitedly and motioned Cameron to stand.

This she did and the frog pointed at a flock of birds approaching.

But these weren't birds!

Oh., but they were more magical!

'Come Princess!' Frogsworth cried with joy.

'There be a feast to celebrate ya beauty! Climb onto Sugardrops and we shall fly away to the Castle of Rainbow.'

Smiling, Cameron climbed on the back of her winged unicorn and took to the air. A flock of penguins flew before her, playing the horn to announce her return to her people.

Meth wasn't just to pick up hot Australian doctors!

Though it helped!


End file.
